


a single word can make a heart open

by bowlingfornerds



Category: The 100
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Author!Clarke, Editor!Bellamy, F/M, alternate universe - author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 04:45:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4733231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowlingfornerds/pseuds/bowlingfornerds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many of her characters had his laugh, or his smile, his personality and witty comments. She wondered if he’d ever notice that he could put her characters together and form another version of him – but then again, she wondered if she’d ever want him to.</p><p>Clarke is a Young Adult author and Bellamy is her editor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a single word can make a heart open

**Author's Note:**

> Taken from four 'thewritingrelm' prompts and merged into one.
> 
> The title is from Rachel Platten's 'Fight Song'.
> 
> Still putting off writing the next chapter of 'why don't we go somewhere only we know' because I have absolutely no clue what I'm doing with it.
> 
> Enjoy. (Or don't. Whatever.)

Clarke felt bad for her editor as she typed, but she was in far too deep to stop. Each word she wrote seemed to flow out of her at a pace she couldn’t quite control, and while she was sure it would be turned down, and Clarke would be told to rewrite the entire thing, she had to give it a go. There was no way she couldn’t anymore.

Clarke had four books published, once a year for the past four years. She was only slightly financially stable, when it came down to it, but she didn’t much mind – the pub golf she competed in every other weekend was more than worth it for the money she lost. Today, as she typed, she was so far immersed in her story that she didn’t hear her roommate, Raven, clanging around in the kitchen, most likely blowing up the toaster, nor did she realise that there had been a knock at the door before Jasper and Monty had invited themselves in, until they were sitting either side of her.

“ _Andy only touched it for a moment, before retracting her hand at lightning speed_ ,” Jasper read dramatically over her shoulder.

“ _What the hell is this?”_ Monty continued in a high-pitched voice. “ _She turned to look at Xavier, who’d brought her down here_ \- hey!” Clarke slammed the laptop shut, aware of her friends’ presence. “I was reading that,” Monty pouted. Clarke rolled her eyes, looking at him.

“You’re not allowed to read my writing until it’s done,” she reminded them. “Those are the rules.” As Clarke picked up her laptop to carry it through to her bedroom, Jasper kept talking from behind her.

“It’s a stupid rule!”

-

The next morning, she found herself at the printer with the newest four chapters printing out. Clarke really wanted to impress her editor. Bellamy Blake had been an editor at Ark Publishing House for about five years, and the two of them had developed a form of banter in the time that they’d been working with each other. Clarke found that she trusted no one else with her work, and he was always happy to read whatever she had come up with.

“Going to see Bellamy are you?” Raven asked, waggling her eyebrows. Clarke didn’t even look at her as she stuffed her water bottle into her backpack.

“I’m going to see my _editor_ , yes,” she replied. Raven huffed from the doorway.

“You two have been skirting around each other for years,” she complained.

“ _I’ve_ been skirting around _him_ ,” Clarke corrected. “He was in a committed relationship.” Raven rolled her eyes when Clarke glanced over.

“But that committed relationship fell apart like six months ago,” she protested. “It’s open season, isn’t it?” The blonde’s hands picked up the printed copies, liking to see Bellamy in person when he read her work, and clipped them together before sliding them into her backpack. She didn’t bother to reply and Raven just huffed again before wishing her luck – on the new chapter or the flirting with Bellamy, she didn’t know.

Less than an hour later, she’d dropped off the chapters and went to pick up her coffee from around the corner, hoping to return to Bellamy’s office by the time he’d finished reading. In Grounders, her favourite coffee shop, the barista grinned at her entrance. Octavia Blake – or O, as called by her golden name badge – was Bellamy’s younger sister, and manager of Grounders. The moment they saw each other, Octavia got to work on creating her drink – the one of two she always had.

“How did you know which drink to make?” Clarke asked, leaning against the counter as she waited for Octavia to return. The shop was pretty quiet, it being a week day and the middle of the afternoon, and Clarke happily stood in the way of any potential customers that hadn’t yet arrived.

“Bell told me he was expecting you for a meeting today,” she explained and Clarke heard the familiar squeal, like a can of squirty-cream near her drink. “So it was going to be the Belgian chocolate, or I don’t know you at all.” Clarke smiled over the counter as Octavia finished off her drink. Every time she had a meeting with Bellamy, Clarke would come down to Grounders first to pick up an ice cold Belgian chocolate drink, with cream, to give her something to focus on as to avoid staring at her editor. If she was coming into Grounders to write (it was one of her favourite spots) she would get a large black Americano instead.

Clarke handed the exact change over, and nodded when Octavia held a finger up, moving around behind the coffee machine again.

“I told Bell I’d send his drink up with you, if that’s alright,” the younger Blake mentioned as she moved about. Clarke agreed, and accepted the drink before Octavia wished her luck, and she was on her way to see Bellamy.

Bellamy Blake’s office was bigger than most; he had a lot of clients; with books lining the shelves of every one he’d edited (Clarke’s were front and centre, even though she reprimanded him about them not being in alphabetical order by author); and a fake-looking plant in the corner. She settled herself into the seat opposite his desk, a comfortable arm chair, and slid his drink over to him. Bellamy smiled gratefully as he put down her manuscript.

“Thanks,” he said, before glancing back to the stack of papers.

“That’s not a good expression,” Clarke mused, watching as his brow furrowed. He nodded slowly.

“Clarke,” he sighed. “You can’t put a sex dungeon in this. It’s a YA trilogy.” She rolled her eyes, tipping her head back.

“We could at least _try_ ,” she protested.

“No,” he said firmly, and that was the end of that.

-

It was a week later when she saw him next, having re-written the chapters and taken out the sex dungeon entirely. Clarke swore up and down that it had been a stroke of genius to add it in, but Bellamy had rolled his eyes and told her that genius wasn’t the right word, before pushing the papers back towards her.

Her editor was very attractive, Clarke knew this from the beginning. While she was twenty four (her mother had pulled some strings while she was still in university to get her first publishing deal), he was twenty eight, with caramel coloured skin and dark eyes. His hair was the same, curling at the edges, and his cheekbones were dotted with freckles that Clarke had considered counting many a time. She hadn’t realised until she was on her third book that she was writing her editor into every love interest she created.

His freckles had been in Jordan; the swirls of constellations on skin, and his eyes on Marissa, too deep and too dark to stare at for long. She had written his jaw line into Jacob, and his hair to Brandon – even if he was a minor character in the background. Many of her characters had his laugh, or his smile, his personality and witty comments. She wondered if he’d ever notice that he could put her characters together and form another version of him – but then again, she wondered if she’d ever want him to.

This time when she saw him, she watched him slip out of his dark blue bomber jacket, with black patches and loose threads as she followed him into his office. He had been late but she didn’t mind, because she watched him run a hand through his hair because he was worried or stressed, and Clarke had just found another idiosyncrasy to give to Xavier.

“Right, so I read the chapters you emailed me last night,” he promised. “And I thought it was ten times better than the sex dungeon thing-“

“I do have that still saved,” she replied absently, glancing at his book shelf. “If you ever rethink that plot line, of course.” Behind Clarke, Bellamy snorted and she heard the familiar squeak of his chair as he sat down.

“Maybe if you write an adult book,” he commented. She quirked an eyebrow as she glanced over but he was already typing at his laptop. They went through his edits and he handed them back with more ideas and something more trustworthy to say than just ‘we could possibly publish this’.

“So I can take a look at your first five chapters on Monday,” Bellamy told her, clicking through his calendar.

“How does Wednesday sound?” She shot back. Bellamy sighed.

“ _Clarke_.”

-

On the Sunday before her meeting with Bellamy, aware that they had scheduled ten o’clock in the morning, Clarke found herself wandering between every pub in the area. All of her friends had called in sick for the next day, or already had it free, and they’d decided to play a hearty game of pub golf that night.

Clarke grinned as she downed the shot in the first pub. Raven marked her down as a hole in one. At the next place she took her whiskey in two lots, and her beer in four at the next, vodka tonic in two, shot in one, another whiskey in two. Her friends were matching her at each place, or doing better – when it came to Raven. By the end of the night, Clarke had sixteen and Raven only had fourteen. They were unstable on their feet as they stumbled back to their apartment.

Clarke was then suddenly aware that she had the meeting with Bellamy the next day, and couldn’t remember if he wanted new chapters, or the old ones edited. She shrugged, opening up her laptop and taking four goes to get the password right. Then, she wrote.

-

The next morning was an attack of bright colours and loud noises. She wandered into Grounders and kept her shades on, even indoors, and Octavia handed her both her drink and Bellamy’s. On her way to Bellamy’s office, she drank some of his, anyway, because while she wanted to stick to her tradition of Belgian chocolate, she also needed the caffeine.

Clarke handed over the papers and sat in the arm chair as he read. He’d first taken a glance at her state, and then the half-drunk coffee and nodded as if this was a regular occurrence. After, he furrowed his brow at the papers in front of him.

“Clarke,” he said slowly, nearing the end of the first chapter. “Did you write this when you were drunk?”

“Only half of it.” He snorted, placing down the papers and Clarke took a large sip of her drink, relishing in the brain freeze. Then she pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head and looked to Bellamy, shrouded in light from the window behind him. He was smiling, amused, and Clarke couldn’t really tell why.

“You’re my favourite client, you know that?” He asked, standing and walking around to the front of the desk. There, he sat on the edge, watching her.

“I am?” She replied, eyebrows raised. He nodded.

“Yeah, definitely the most attractive, too.” Clarke snorted.

“Your other clients are all fifty,” she commented. He nodded in agreement with a grin.

“Yeah, but Jaha’s still looking good for his age,” he replied. They both let out a bark of laughter, and he turned back to the chapter. “Did you read any of this before bringing it in today?” She shook her head.

“I might have last night?” She wondered. “But last night I also couldn’t remember my roommate’s last name.” He chuckled, leaving through the pages.

“Well, I’ll remind you of what you wrote,” he smiled. “ _Andy looked over to where Xavier stood, his back towards her and his hands gripping the railing tightly. His dark curls blew in the wind, and his jaw was clenched in a way she’d never seen it before. Andy approached him slowly, before sliding her arm around his, and glancing up at him._

“” _Bellamy,” Andy sighed. “We have to keep moving.””_ Clarke’s eyes widened a fraction but her editor kept reading. “ _Bellamy only stayed still, and she watched his eyes follow the horizon; the dark pools of brown that she’d grown to attached to; they gripped the girl even when not looking in her direction, and she wondered how easily they could drown her. And even in the dying light, his freckles were prominent across his cheekbones, and her urge to count them slowly grew overwhelming-“_

“Okay,” Clarke interrupted, staring determinedly at the bookcase. “I get it.” Bellamy exhaled a smile.

“It was a good chapter, I guess,” he commented mildly. “You start talking about aliens in the next paragraph, but up to that point, it was solid.” Clarke swallowed, standing up. She ran a hand through her hair and frowned when it knocked against her shades.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed, only sending a quick glance to Bellamy. “That was entirely inappropriate.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy replied with a nod. His voice was light and joking. “It was a bit.” Clarke glanced back towards him, watching as he stood up and placed the paper down behind him. “I quite liked it, though.”

“Yeah?” Clarke asked, her eyes widening just slightly as Bellamy moved into her space. Up close, his freckles were like tiny painted dots, each painstakingly marked on his face. He nodded, slow and gentle.

“You know what I liked most?” He asked, his voice lower than she’d heard it before. Clarke’s mouth made an ‘O’ as his fingertips ran up her arm in a shiver-inducing moment. Before he could tell her, she couldn’t resist and Clarke moved forward, her lips interlocking with Bellamy’s. He pushed back immediately, moving into the kiss as his hands moved her to neck; cupping her face, and tugging on her hair. She gripped at his t-shirt, trying to pull him closer than he ever had been before. Absently, she wondered if her mistake in her manuscript had been the signal to tell him how she felt, but her thoughts were crushed by his swollen lips pressing into hers.

When they broke apart, both were breathing heavily, and for once, Clarke could stare into the dark pools of brown that made up Bellamy’s eyes, without looking away. He grinned and she laughed back, her fingers unclenching from his t-shirt and falling to her sides.

“I was just going to say that I liked how good your spelling is when you’re drunk,” he commented, amused. “But that works, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh I have no idea what that ending was - that bit was kind of crap. I had no idea how to get Bellamy to tell Clarke that he likes her in 2k words. Whatever.
> 
> THANKS FOR READING! Tell me what you thought, down in the comments, and hit up the kudos button. Thanks!


End file.
